


More Beautiful

by AlynnaStrong



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Brienne is the Best, But Has a Temper, Dark, F/M, Post-Canon, Unreliable Narrator, Valonqar Prophecy, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlynnaStrong/pseuds/AlynnaStrong
Summary: A dark idea about the prophecy that has troubled Cersei most of her life.





	

Cersei couldn’t explain why she felt unsettled. She was in the prime of her power, the Queen in her own right. Never again was her authority to be dependent on her rutting beast of a husband or temporary, as regent for her sons. Of course, she was still grieving for her children – would always grieve, she suspected. Her beautiful children, golden haired and golden shrouded, just as the hag had foreseen. 

Why couldn’t the woods witch have been wrong about that? The rest of her prophecy been averted. Why not that? “Queen you shall be, until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear,” she had said.

Where were these challenger queens now? Margaery was dead, her delicate features melted and blackened in wildfire. Daenerys Targaryen? She had chosen the Wall and Jon Snow…Jon Targaryen. A rueful smile touched Cersei’s lips, as she supposed she didn’t have a lot of room to criticize on that point. Perhaps, perhaps she would still be a problem in the future. They obviously had some things in common; an unslackable desire for the iron throne may be one of them. However, every day the Dragon…Usurper spent fighting white walkers in the north was another day for Cersei’s forces to recover and solidify her hold on the kingdoms. The undead had been more of a blessing than a curse as far as she was concerned. That left only Sansa Stark, but diplomacy had solved that problem. Littlefinger had driven a hard bargain. The North was now independent again, ruled by Queen in the North Sansa Stark and her Hand and consort, Lord Baelish. Frankly, Cersei felt she’d gotten the better end of that deal even if it had reduced the land under her control by half. Who even wanted the North, with it foul climate and peasants so unruly they might as well be wildlings.

She relaxed slightly. Probably her unease stemmed from being apart from Jaime for so long. He had been in the south for far too many months, negotiating with Dorne and Highgarden, then with barely time to kiss her on her cheek, he had been off again to unite the Stormlands and bring Stannis’ former bannermen back into the fold. He’d returned for good now, finally. He could lead an army 100,000 strong in her name now. Enough, surely, to fend off any credible threat to her rule. 

He had refused her, though, and that really mustn’t stand. She’d asked him forthrightly – as he had once asked her -- why not marry? Who’s to stop us now? There was no longer the childrens' claim to worry about. They could be one flesh again, legally. Forever. He’d said it was too soon. She still had to win over the people. He was clearly spending too much time with that great aurochs of a woman who rode with him. She had peculiar and overly uptight standards of honor. At least that was something she could take care of right away. Cersei sent for Brienne of Tarth.

Before long, she heard thudding footsteps climbing the stairs to her tower. A king’s guard whose name she couldn’t remember right away – there had been so many deaths, so many changes lately – opened the door. “Lady Lannister,” he bowed.

Cersei was nearly speechless in amazement. “Your grace,” she growled at the ignorant fool. She would have him demoted to guarding the mud gate by the end of the day, if he didn’t learn quickly. 

“Your grace,” he said, swiftly bowing his way to closing the door. 

The aurochs was dressed, as usual, in men’s clothing. What was wrong with her? She must be blind and deaf not to shrivel up in shame from the stares she got. At least she was generally polite enough. Except for the curtsies. 

“My lady,” she said, earning a baleful glare from Cersei, “I am relieved that you asked to see me. Are you finally ready to depart?”

Those words didn’t make a lot of sense to Cersei, but she tried to get back on track. “I suppose I could do with a walk in the garden,” she said giving Brienne an odd look. It did seem a while since she left her tower, now that she thought about it. “But mainly, I wanted to discuss your next posting. I’ve heard Harrenhal needs reinforcement. Didn’t you serve there for a while? Take three dozen knights and assess it. No, two dozen. The Freys can send some men if you need more; they always have plenty.”

Brienne's brow furrowed. Cersei hadn’t expected her to like the order, but surely she wasn’t going to question it. Or refuse it! She could earn herself a place in the dungeons; that would be sweet.

“My lady, Harrenhal is abandoned. All the Riverlands are still in open rebellion. But surely that’s not why you called for me.” Brienne’s expression changed. It was starting to look more and more like pity. 

“You need to leave now. If I escort you out, no one will harm you. Passage to Braavos is available from a trustworthy ship master. You can bring enough jewels with you to provide you with a somewhat comfortable life in exile. But you must leave before Jaime is crowned. If you’re still here once he’s king, he won’t be able to show you mercy.”

“You’re absurd. Jaime would never hurt me.” A strange buzzing filled Cersei’s head, like she was trying to unhear what the crazy, overgrown, beast-woman had just said.

“You burned thousands alive. The entire city wants your head. He can’t spare you and keep the throne. If you escape though, in all the confusion… Please, Cersei, I want to do this. For Jaime. He suffers so much already for the choices he’s made. Don’t be another burden to him.”

Brienne looked to the skies in silent plea, putting her hand to the small of her back. There was something in the way she was standing, something…familiar. “You’re pregnant. How chivalrous of my brother to put a bastard in your belly before sending you to usurp the throne for him.” Cersei cast her eyes around the room, hoping for a stray dagger or even a bread knife. Anything to prevent this woman from living one more second with Jaime’s child.

“We were wed 4 months ago, on Tarth, during the Stormlands campaign. We sent you many ravens. I sent them to you by my own hand! You had warning the united armies were coming for you. We – I – thought you would see reason, eventually.”

The pieces of the prophecy started to come together in Cersei’s head. If this coup played out, this woman would have the crown, Jaime, and Jaime’s children. “No! Not you! It can’t be!” Cersei raved, “You’re younger, I’ll grant you that, but you’ll never be more beautiful. Never! The words of prophecy are against you.”

Brienne shook her head, tears standing in her eyes. Pity, Cersei realized; they were tears of pity. 

“They used to call me Brienne the Beauty, you know,” she said. “For the longest time, I let those mocking words hurt me inside. But eventually, I realized-“ 

Brienne put her hand comfortingly on Cersei’s shoulder, intending to guide her towards the door. She was planning the escape route in her head, thinking about which guards to send where, so that she didn’t see the blow coming. 

Cersei struck Brienne mid-belly, her fist wrapped around the heaviest thing she could find, a silver hand mirror. She felt it break and cut the palm of her hand but it was worth it to see the bitch double over. Cersei felt for a piece of broken glass large enough to open her throat, but too quickly, Brienne recovered. She grabbed Cersei by her still-short hair and yanked her head back. Cersei could see the fury boiling from her eyes. The pity had disappeared so suddenly Cersei could pretend she never saw it.

With gentleness poorly disguising her rage, Brienne asked “Have you ever seen a hanging? It’s a terrible way to go. Your eyes protrude; your tongue blackens and sticks out; your face turns blue-black, even worse that Joffrey.” Brienne’s better nature knew she shouldn’t have said that last bit, but her temper has slipped its bounds and was going to run a while before she could get it under control.

“You’ll kick and contort; foul yourself. Small folk will be allowed to throw rotten vegetables and dung at you. Soon you’ll draw flies. By the time they cut off your head to coat it with tar and display it at the gates, the crows will have eaten your eyes and you’ll be full of maggots. You’ll be very ugly indeed.”

Brienne turned and walked away slowly. She listened, still hoping that Cersei would tell her to wait, would accept defeat and allow mercy. Cersei said nothing though, and Brienne finally stalked off, abandoning her to her fate.

No wonder Maggy the Frog had laughed, Cersei thought. It really had been quite the jape after all.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who would find themselves concerned, the baby’s fine. I said it was dark, not tragic.


End file.
